


Uses of a Tie

by toastweasel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Female Ejaculation, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, and other extreme sports, futuristic strap ons, light blood and gore, misuse of neckwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastweasel/pseuds/toastweasel
Summary: Three uses, and abuses, of Moira O'Deorain's signature tie.





	Uses of a Tie

**Author's Note:**

> *frisbees you this pile of sin like a Tracer pulse bomb* HERE YA GO!

As a researcher, Moira was not expected to know how to fire a gun. As a field medic, Angela was.  At the end of the day, the doctor had to know how to protect herself on the battlefield should her comrades fail, or became unable, to. Despite her personal distaste for guns, Angela practiced weekly in the firing range at the base.

This was where Moira found her after her debrief with Captain Amari. Angela looked fierce, her hair pulled back tighter than usual to compensate for the requisite eye and hearing protection she had to wear while on the rage. Moira stood a healthy distance back and watched as Angela pounded energy slug after energy slug into an unfortunate training bot down field. Even without her eye screen to help enhance her eyesight, Moira could tell Angela’s grouping was good.

The doctor paused to reload, and that was when Moira pounced.

“Ziegler!”

“Doctor O’Deorain!” Angela exclaimed in surprise, and flicked the safety on her handgun. She carefully set it down on her station table and walked over. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Amari wants our collaboration on her newest project,” Moira said with some amount of disgust in her voice as she held out her holopad to Angela. “I thought it prudent to see you directly.”

Angela frowned softly and cradled her ear protection around her neck, then took the holopad. “New medpacs?”

Moira grunted her confirmation. “There appears to be _a need_.”

“While I don’t disagree that homing medpacs would be useful, I wish she’d included me on this meeting,” Angela said with some amount of resignation. “Now I’m going to have to follow up.”

“I was available,” Moira shrugged. “She knows your schedule, and its…limitations.”

Angela sighed. “Yes, well, I suppose this is my new priority.” She handed the holopad back to Moira. “Let me finish here and I can—”

She was cut off by a blood curdling scream. Both women jumped and turned towards the noise.

“What the devil—?”

Angela was already off down the range to where some idiot in cadet blues was crumbled on the ground, his leg heavily bleeding.

“Cease fire!” Moira barked in her best commanding voice, then tore after Angela as the last sounds of gunfire ceased. The geneticist was not a field medic by any stretch of the imagination; she was a researcher first, second, and third, but had learned enough to be dangerous over the years. It was hard to be a member of Overwatch and not learn a few life-saving skills along the way. She might as well attempt to be useful.

Angela was already there, sunk to her knees with the fanny pack of medical supplies she always carried open and ready. She had gloved up and was cutting away the rapidly staining fabric of the cadet’s trousers.

“Moira. Gloves and pressure.”

Moira did not need to be told twice. She fished a second pair of gloves and gauze from the little kit, then set about putting pressure on the entrance wound. The coppery tinge of blood was infecting the air and making her nauseous. She realized belatedly that she had kneeled in a smear of it in her haste—her white pants were ruined.

“I really need to finish that damn injection prototype,” Angela swore as she unceremoniously sliced the cadet’s pants up the inside seam and fished for an exit wound.

“An injection prototype?”

“Yes, a nanite pen,” the medic replied distractedly. “Like the epinephrine pens at the turn of the century.”

Moira wrinkled her nose. “Not those medieval things?”

“They worked, didn’t they?” Angela shot back, then rocked onto her heels and turned to dig through. “There’s no exit wound.”

“Well by the way he’s bleeding it hit something major,” Moira replied. Despite her best efforts, the puddle she was kneeling in was growing bigger. “He’ll exsanguinate if we don’t hurry up.”

“Don’t say things like that,” Angela chided, then looked down at the rapidly panicking teenager beneath her. “What’s your name, Cadet?”

“J-Johnson, ma’am.”

“Just stay calm, Johnson. I’ll get you something for that pain as soon as I stop your bleeding, and we’ll get you to the med bay and patched up in no time.”

Moira had to admire her bedside manner. The idiot had stepped out onto the firing range during live fire and Angela was still managing to be civil. There was a reason she was well liked amongst the troops.

“Keep pressure,” Angela ordered Moira, for all the good it was doing, then looked up at the hovering agents. “Call for a stretcher and tell the med bay to prep for surgery.”

“Already done, ma’am. Team on its way.”

Angela huffed a little sound that Moira believed managed to be impressed, proud, and relieved all at once. She turned back to her kit and rummaged through it.

“What are you looking for?”

“Something for a tourniquet, but I don’t think—no, damn, I don’t have—”

“Use my tie,” Moira interrupted.

“I—what? Really?”

“I’ve already ruined these pants, might as well ruin the tie, too,” the geneticist quipped. “Just take it.”

Angela hesitated, but only for a second. She reached forward and tugged the length of fabric from around Moira’s neck. Within seconds she had fashioned a tourniquet with her scissors and the tie, and as she was finishing it a team from the med bay clattered out with a stretcher. Angela immediately started speaking in the rapid staccato of medical speak; Moira’s hands were shoved aside on the cadet’s leg, replaced with a medic’s, and within minutes Cadet Johnson was whisked off for the med bay.

Moira was left standing in the middle of the firing range in blood-stained nitrile gloves and ruined pants. So much for her meeting with Angela. It was no doubt the doctor would be preoccupied for some time.

She sighed and stripped off the gloves, then collected up Angela’s discarded medical pack.

She had to go change. She had to return Angela’s bag. And while she was at it, she might as well get a head start on the incident report.

Captain Amari’s little project would just have to wait for a bit longer.

* * *

_“_ _Verdammt, Moira, warum musst du so sein?”_

Moira chuckled and crossed her long legs, the noise low in her throat. “I’m afraid my German is still poor enough that I only caught about a third of that.”

Angela threw her hands up in disgust but did not repeat herself in English. Instead, she grabbed her coffee mug and stalked from the room.

The Irish woman sighed and stood to stretch her long limbs. This was the second time today she had infuriated Angela to the point of leaving. It was not her intention to make her that angry–although it was fun to rile her up—but at some point Angela would just have to come to terms with the fact she was wrong and Moira was right.

It was just the way of the world. One day Angela would learn that failure was only a door to future success. She was young yet; Moira had been similarly inclined when she was that age. It would most likely take time.

Moira took advantage of Angela being out of the room and completed a full stretch circuit, ending it when her back popped in an incredibly satisfyingly way. She paused to crack her neck similarly, then loped over to the work station that Angela had recently vacated.

They’d been struggling with the homing medpacks assigned to them by Captain Amari for some time now. Angela wanted them to stabilize the patient until she, or another medic, could fly in and assess the damage themselves. Moira was in favor of a more sentient bot that would administer nanites and restore the soldier to fighting form immediately, with programming to call for help only if it discovered a situation above its robotic limitations.

It had been an ongoing battle, especially when they decided to build two separate prototypes and test them for Amari. Angela’s was not performing as planned, and she was frustrated. It had only taken a little needling from Moira for her to blow her temper.

It was almost too easy.

As she was bent over Angela’s medpack, inspecting the guts of its circuitry, the doctor herself came back in.

“Gloating, are you?”

“Of course not. Simply trying to diagnose the problem.”

Angela sniffed and went over to her desk station to ignore Moira with paperwork. Moira shook her head patronizingly and picked up a pair of tongs to better aid in her fussing. It took her a little under thirty minutes to find a slip of the wiring, and another twenty after that to find a faulty injection needle.

Moira plucked a test homing implant from the drawer they were being stored and went to go get a test rabbit from the room next door. She let herself pause a moment to give a few of her favorite ones a little scratch, then scooped up one of the bunny’s that had not yet been tested on. She injected it with the implant, then carried it back out into the lab. When it wriggled in her arms, she rubbed it soothingly between the ears until it ceased its bid for freedom.

Angela was fully engrossed in her screen. Moira set the rabbit in an open-topped hutch, then went back to the work table. She closed up the access port on the bot and powered it on; it hummed to life slowly. After a moment, it rose slowly until it reached eye level, where it hovered patiently, waiting for instructions. The feed from its computer projected directly into her eye screen said the bot was functioning fully and reading the rabbit as in perfect health.

That was promising.

Moira fetched a biopsy needle. With little ceremony, she knelt by the hutch and drove it into the rabbit’s flank. The little animal screamed.

Angela jumped. She swiveled angrily in her chair and her gaze turned stormy as she saw the now bleeding bunny. “Moira! What are you doing?!”

Moira shushed her and stood, capping the needle. “Just wait.”

The bot chirped almost as soon as she finished talking. Moira flicked her attention to the eyescreen and saw the bot asking for permission to carry out its mission. She approved it with a flick of her wrist.

With a noise that sounded far too cheerful, the bot zipped over to the hutch and gently lowered itself in beside the cowering rabbit. The rabbit bolted to the other side. The bot followed after. The rabbit bolted again. After the fifth instance of this, Moira moved in to hold the creature down so the bot could do its work.

“Perhaps a preliminary sedative?” Moira asked over her shoulder at Angela. “For the recipient, in case of shell shock or terror.”

Angela made a thoughtful noise. The bot settled down on the rabbit’s injured haunch and clamped on, just as designed. The bot injected the bunny with a calming draught, and as soon as it stopped struggling the the bot’s diagnosis began flooding into Moira’s eyescreen.

Moira flicked her wrist again and sent the file to Angela’s computer. It popped up on her screen and Angela leaned in to check the results.

“Puncture to the right flank, 8mm in diameter, consistent with no known weapons, injury mild to moderate,” Angela read off, then grew quiet as she read the rabbit’s blood proteins and other levels that the bot was transferring into the computer in real time. “It worked!”

“Of course it worked.” Moira stood up and brushed her pants off brusquely, then came over to look at the screen herself. She flicked her eye screen up out of the way and then leaned in to better see the screen; her fingers absentmindedly went to clutch the back of Angela’s chair for support as she read. “It just needed a second set of eyes. With a bit of adjusting, this should be good enough to show to Amari tomorrow.”

Angela looked up at her for a second, then grabbed the geneticist’s tie and pulled her down. Moira stumbled forward, her free hand flying out to brace herself as Angela slotted her soft lips over her chapped ones.

Despite it being sudden, Moira soon made it clear the kiss was certainly not unwelcome. She shifted her weight and brought up a hand to cup Angela’s jaw. As the kiss grew deeper, she nipped at the doctor’s lips; Angela gasped into her mouth in surprise.

“Well that was not a result I necessarily expected from this little experiment,” Moira said a little breathlessly when they finally parted.

“Shut up,” Angela told her, and wrapped her hand more firmly around her tie before pulling her in for another kiss.

* * *

 “I can’t believe you wore that under your pants today.”

Moira squirmed in her chair, the folding one Angela had pilfered from the break room. It was too short for her, but it had better places for Angela to tie her to than their desk chairs. “You don’t seem to be complaining, my dear.”

“Mmm, I’m not.”

Angela disappeared behind her and Moira felt the cool silk of her tie wrap around her wrists. It was a different cool than that of the lab, a cool that was making her nipples pebble and chafe under her shirt. She sucked in a breath as she felt Angela tug experimentally on the bounds.

“Trussed up to your satisfaction, darling?” Moira drawled, craning her neck to try and see Angela crouched behind her.

“Mmm, no, but it will do for now.” Angela came back around and checked the doors to the lab one last time, then flicked the lights. Moira blinked to adjust her eyes to the sudden darkness; Angela’s white labcoat was blue under the glow of the holoscreens. She swam forward out of the darkness and join Moira from where she had situated her in the corner, out of the line of sight from the doorway.

Angela’s hand drifted down and gave a lazy pump or two to the silicon of the strap on. Moira’s eyes grew hungry.

“I’m surprised you turned off the lights and locked the door,” the geneticist purred, “considering your exhibitionist streak is a kilometer wide.”

Angela ignored her in favor of unbuttoning her lab coat. Moira made an appreciative noise as she revealed she was quite naked underneath, save for a lacy bra and panty set. She leaned up, intent of setting her mouth to work, but Angela had other ideas. She straddled her lover and pulled her in to a bruising kiss, her hands going to thread into Moira’s hair.

Moira moaned softly. Angela’s her nails scraped along her scalp before she tugged sharply on those fiery locks. The geneticist moaned again.

Angela pressed herself into Moira, grinding against the bulge of the strap on tucked into Moira’s boxer briefs. The geneticist hissed happily and brought her hips up to meet Angela’s as she ground slow and steady into her lap.

“I haven’t even connected the nerves yet,” Angela murmured in Moira’s ear, and tugged on her hair again. “You got that worked up today, did you, just from wearing the toy? Shameful.”

Moira growled and tugged against her bounds, but the tie held her tight.

Angela leaned back and delivered a stinging slap to the older woman’s thigh. “Behave, liebling, or I’ll leave you tied to this chair for the cleaning crew to find tomorrow.”

Moira stared at her defiantly. Angela braced her elbows on the Moira’s bony shoulders and resumed her grinding. As she slowly worked herself higher and higher on the friction alone, little mewls fell past pink parted lips. Moira strained to be useful, but Angela was purposefully holding herself out of reach of her mouth and tongue.

“You’re going to ruin those pretty panties,” Moira murmured huskily, despite the risk she might get slapped again. “I can smell you already, Angela. You’ve been wanting me inside you since you found out I was wearing this toy. I saw the way you sat in this morning’s meetings, how your thigh’s clenched together when you looked at me.”

Angela whimpered softly.

“You want it.”

“So do you.”

Moira shrugged, as if she was indeed the perfectly detached scientist she claimed to be.

Angela leveled her with a look. Moira met her gaze and held it. They stared at each other for one moment, then another, before Angela kissed her again. It was a hungry, bordering on sloppy, kiss. Moira used every inch of her mouth and tongue to nip and suck.

Angela allowed it, but eventually grew bored. She broke the kiss and moved on to Moira’s neck, sucking hickies into life as she unbuttoned her lover’s shirt. When she reached Moira’s nipples she took her time, licking them into peaks and teasing them with her teeth like she knew Moira liked. When Moira’s chest arched towards her, she knew she was on the right track. She released the nipple in her mouth with a pop and sat back to admiring her prize.

Moira’s hair was in complete disarray, and with her shirt open and pushed back on her shoulders, threatening to fall off completely, she looked deliciously disheveled. The Irish woman was ethereal with her dark hungry eyes and the way her skin glowed in the low light. It was almost a shame that Angela couldn’t see the freckles that covered her chest in the dark.

(Almost.)

The doctor dismounted and shucked off her coat, deciding to get down to business. “Legs open.”

Moira arched an eyebrow.

“I said _open_ ,” Angela growled, and when Moira did not obey, she forced them open herself. Moira, ever proud, bit her lip to stifle a moan. Without preamble Angela sank to her knees and ran her hands up the insides of Mora’s pale thighs, being sure to tease. Not as good as Moira’s nails, certainly, but hers did her job well enough.

Her lover shuddered in anticipation.

Angela replaced her hands with her mouth to kiss, lick, and bite a slow trail up Moira’s thighs. She stopped at the edge of Moira’s boxer briefs each and every time. Her discretion was clearly driving the Irish woman to distraction.

 _“Jesus,_ Angela!” Her accent was as heavy as the scent of her arousal, which Angela could clearly smell even through the cotton of her briefs. _“Ar mhaith leat an fuck suas?”_

“Patience,” Angela murmured, and suckled a small hickie in the middle of her thigh before she pulled back. Moira squirmed. The doctor’s hands traced up and down her pale skin as she smirked up at her. Moira was anything but patient when it came to her pleasure, and it drove her mad to be teased like this. “Something you want, liebling?”

“You know very well what,” Moira replied through gritted teeth.

Angela’s smirk widened, and she made one more pass with her hands on Moira’s thighs before she moved them up and gently rolled down the band of Moira’s boxer briefs. Moira lifted her hips to assist in the removal of the offending article of clothing. The strap on sprung free, and Angela gave it a little pump before she pulled Moira’s boxers off the rest of the way and tossed them in the direction she had thrown her coat.

“I’m going to connect your nerves now,” Angela warned.

_“Finally.”_

Angela reached for the hidden switch at the base of the toy and flicked it on. Moira sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth as it connected into her nerves, setting them alight in a brief, but painful, imaginary fire. The cock glowed softly in the darkness as it came online, shifting between colors before finally settling on a twisted yellow and purple pattern that pulsed in time with Moira’s heartbeat.

“There you go. Angela leaned forward to kiss its tip. Moira exhaled a ragged gasp and pressed her hips up to Angela’s mouth. “How’s it feel?”

Moira whimpered.

Angela grinned and wrapped her hand around the base. “Just wait until it’s inside me.”

“Well hurry it up,” Moira snarled impatiently. The way the toy’s color flared betrayed the depths of her arousal. She was incredibly needy.

The doctor chuckled and gave the toy a lazy pump, then stood. “Not quite yet, I don’t think.”

Moira opened her mouth to argue, but stopped as Angela reached back and undid the clasp of her bra. She leaned forward, desperate and straining. Angela remained just out of reach, letting the tie hold Moira in place as she exposed her breasts and let her bra fall to the floor.

“Want something, Doctor O’Deorain?”

“You know very well what I want.”

Angela laughed, a hearty noise, and moved to straddle Moira once again. She re-twined her fingers into the geneticist’s hair and brought her face up to her breast. “Suck.”

Moira took Angela’s nipple in her mouth and did as was asked of her; the blonde moaned softly and tugged on her hair to encourage her to continue, pressing her close. Moira scraped her teeth over her skin, nipping across her chest until she reached her other breast. Angela pushed down against the strap on, causing both of them to pause as a desire coursed through them.

“You need to get those panties _off_.”

Angela yanked hard on Moira’s hair. “You’re not the one in charge here.”

Moira crooked an eyebrow and bite harder than strictly necessary on Angela’s nipple. It earned her a slap, delivered straight across the cheek with absolutely no hesitation or mercy. The geneticist hissed and blinked past the sudden stars in her eyes.

“Fuc..k…”

“Are you going to behave now?” Angela asked, deathly sweet.

“Define ‘behave.’”

Another slap. Moira coughed until Angela’s hand took her chin in her hand and forced her to look her in the eye. “Well?”

Moira glared defiantly up at her. “Stop. Teasing.”

“You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be tied up,” Angela replied. “It will do you some good to learn that you can’t control everything.”

The geneticist’s nostrils flared. Angela scooted off her lap and walked off to what had effectively become her desk in the experimental lab. She booted up the computer and typed in the password.

Moira wiggled and squirmed behind her. “Angela…”

Angela stoutly ignored her in favor of pulling. up some paperwork.

“Angela.”

Angela clicked into the results from their latest experiment and started going through the data.

_“Angela!”_

“Don’t make me go get a crop,” Angela said mildly as she scrolled. “Sit still like a good girl and I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Moira’s face was murderous. Angela had no doubt her revenge would be torturous, but that was part of the thrill. Finally, after Moira has stewed for a good five minutes, Angela turned from her computer and sized her up.

“Well?” she asked, “are you willing to behave?”

Moira pressed her lips together.

Angela frowned and wheeled over in front of her. She took Moira’s chin in her hand and squeezed, hard. “I _asked_ if you’re ready to behave.”

Moira’s nostrils flared again but she ground out a stilted, “Yes.”

“Good. Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” The doctor relinquished her chin and pulled her chair back so she could take off her panties. Moira squirmed as Angela took it slow, showing off a bit.

“Angela, I swear to god…”

“I thought you were an atheist,” Angela replied mildly, but stood and pushed the chair away. Moira was too distracted by her nakedness to retort. Angela smirked and restraddled her, then took hold of the strap on. Her lover moaned softly. Angela gave it a pump or two, then gently lowered herself onto the tip.

Moira hissed happily and bucked, but Angela held her down firmly.

“I have to adjust.”

“Then do something to distract me. All I want to do right now is fuck you like an animal.”

“Rain check,” Angela murmured, then pulled Moira into a kiss as she slowly teased herself open with the tip of the strip on. Moira showed remarkable restraint, all things considered, but her kisses started to get sloppy as Angela started to sink farther down onto the toy.

“Angel…fuck…you’re so wet…”

“Who do you think made me that way?” the blonde practically purred, and nipped behind Moira’s ear as she settled fully into her lap. Moira groaned in satisfaction.

“Damn…”

“Feel good?” Angela murmured as she gently started to rock her hips down, down, down in Moira’s.

“You have no idea,” the Irish woman breathed as she spread her legs a bit wider in order to have better traction on the floor.

“Maybe I would, if you would ever let me wear the strap on.”

“No.”

“Spoilsport,” Angela pouted, but began to move her hips higher and faster as she adjusted completely to the toy. Moira groaned beneath her and thrust up with her hips in time to Angela’s. She could feel each time Angela clenched around the strap on; each one made her head spin and drove her to thrust up, harder, and with more power.

Fucking Angela, or having Angela fuck herself, with the sensory was always a treat. It was practically heady.

“Fuck…”

“Worth the wait?”

“Yes,” Moira hissed softly. “You’re so fucking tight…”

Angela let out a soft little moan and leaned in to change the angle of the toy, tucking her head into Moira’s neck. Her little whimper of pleasure was right next to Moira’s ear; the noise went straight to the geneticist’s core.

“Are you going to come for me?” Moira asked huskily, because she couldn’t help it. “Are you going to ride my cock until you burst?”

“I didn’t say you could talk to me like that,” Angela told her, but it was weak.

Moira knew Angela liked the sound of her voice, and could feel the way she tightened as she talked. She took it as permission to keep going. “And after you’ve satiated yourself, what next?”

“Nngh…”

If you come before me are you going to leave me here, tied up, having used me like your own personal fuck toy?”

“I should.”

The Irish woman laughed and made certain the next thrust of her hips was a hard one. Angela keened happily; her reward. A familiar ache was starting to build in Moira’s groin as they continued. She sped up her hips, chasing the sensation.

Angela could tell Moira was close by the way she had grown quiet and focused on the fuck. The lab was soon filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing and the slap of flesh on flesh. The doctor nibbled at Moira’s pulse point and smirked against her skin as she heard her lover swear.

“Are you going to come for _me_ , Moira?”

“I—nghh—I—oh…ooh..”

“Well, are you?”

“I…nngh..fuck…”

Angela pulled away with a frown at the tone of her voice. Moira sounded halfway between disappointed annoyed, not turned on like she had expected. “What is it?”

“Don’t move,” Moira hissed, then whimpered as her hips shook and pumped involuntarily. “Nnn…ahh…fuck!”

“Moira? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s…wrong, exactly.” Even in the darkness, it was clear Moira was generously flush under her freckles, although from embarrassment or body heat it was hard to say. “I’ve just…ejaculated all over the chair.”

Angela was startled into laughter. “Is that all?”

“Side effect of the sensory model.” Moira shifted uncomfortably in the sudden puddle. “It mixes the body signals and…encourages ejaculation.”

Angela tried to contain herself, but her body trembled like a leaf from holding back her laughter. “Is that so?”

“Indeed…” Moira made a face. “I feel like I wet myself.”

“Some people are into that.”

“I’m not.”

“Well that’s no good.” The doctor smiled and kissed her cheek, then pulled off to go in search of something to wipe up the squirt so Moira could be comfortable. “Did you at least come?”

“No…”

Angela made a sympathetic noise. After a temporary clean up break, Angela tossed the paper towels she had used and restraddled Moira. “Well, we’ll have to fix your orgasm deficiency.”

The geneticist smirked up at her. “You first.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> "I'm going to write Dorm AU Moicy" Ty says before writing something completely different all the while complaining about how much Dorm AU Moicy is giving them trouble. 
> 
> Oh well, you still got smut. Let me know what you think, dears xo


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